There’s never enough time.
Never enough time to tell people how you feel about them, never enough time to even keep in touch. We get trapped in our bubbles and work to get from point A to point B on a daily basis. Work, family, the usual. I try to keep up with my grown children while struggling to sustain a freelance career and be present for my wife, who balances her own career with our shared identity as empty nesters. The little things keep you occupied, until something big hits, and you realize how trivial those little things can be.
I’ve had three big hits in the second half of 2026. The first was Alex Gimenez.
Alex was a fellow Cornell grad, class of 2015 from the School of Industrial and Labor Relations, what we call “ILR.” He was from Miami, a graduate of the prestigious Belen Jesuit prep school. After Cornell, he went to work for the Cleveland Guardians, then the Boston Red Sox, the Professional Women’s Hockey League, and this summer landed his dream job as the Director of Hockey Operations - Collective Bargaining Agreement with the Boston Bruins of the NHL. While rising rapidly up the ranks in sports management, he also served as an adjunct instructor at the ILR school, occasionally inviting me to speak to his students.
Alex originally found me through a Cornell alumni connection. He was bright, ambitious, and kind. I attended a baseball game in Cleveland with Alex and Matt Kall, my classmate and fellow WVBR alum. Matt and I agreed immediately that Alex was going to be the next commissioner of baseball, or maybe the NHL, depending on who recognized his talents first. The kid was a wizard with numbers and could charm a brick wall. When my daughter chose to attend Boston University, I called Alex, and we had several dinners together in Boston. My daughter described him simply as “a lovely person.”
Alex Gimenez died on September 17, 2026 at the age of 33. He was born the same year I graduated from Cornell. He had hinted at health issues, letting me know that he wanted to stay close to Boston because of the superior health care in the area. I didn’t know the extent. He was taken by cancer. His LinkedIn page is still on my feed. He was a guest on my podcast.
Never enough time.
The second big hit of 2026 came on October 24, when David Moulton passed away at the age of 60. David was a former spotter in the booth with Joe Buck and Troy Aikman for NFL football, and their emotional tribute to him on live television was how I learned of his passing. My wife and I watch football together every week, and I recall seeing his photo flash on the screen and blurting out, “I’ve been on the air with him!”
David had a hell of a career in this industry. Sports director and anchor on TV in Southwest Florida, co-host of “Miller and Moulton” on various radio stations and platforms, freelance work with Sirius XM. He found me many years ago and recruited me as a regular guest on his radio show to drop in during golf’s major championships. He knew as much about the game as I did, but graciously ceded the floor to me, as if I were the expert in the room. The ultimate professional. Build the guest’s credibility and then place the ball on the tee.
Again, cancer. A six-year fight. Stage four renal cell cancer, a tumor that wrapped itself around his kidney and cost him 60 pounds and his life. His radio broadcast partner, Mark Miller, texted me with details — David had “retired” on August 7 to focus on his health, which means my last conversation with him must have been on-air during the week of the Open Championship at Royal Birkdale. Again, I had no idea of the extent. David was also a guest on my podcast, in June of 2025.
Never enough time.
Now: Dan Hicks. November 11, 2026 at the age of 64. An “acute illness,” about which we cannot speculate. Leaves behind his wife, my former ESPN colleague Hannah Storm, and three daughters. Dan spent 34 years at NBC, including 26 years as the voice of the Peacock network’s golf coverage with legendary producer Tommy Roy. Called Olympic sports for decades and was NBC’s voice for Notre Dame football for two different stints.
About two years into a career with Golf Channel that started in 2010, I was moved from a studio host role to a different job as a golf play-by-play announcer. Mike McCarley and the management team heard me fill in for Jerry Foltz on a Korn Ferry Tour event and decided that the road was the place for me. Then, as now, Golf Channel carried the first two rounds of most PGA Tour events while CBS or NBC carried Saturday and Sunday.
The grace that was shown to me by CBS golf producers Lance Barrow and Sellers Shy — the latter of whom was also a podcast guest — was astounding. They knew that I had been tossed into the deep end, but they also knew I could handle it. They let me figure it out, silently reassuring me that there was a catch fence if I got loose.
Same was true for the NBC weeks with Tommy Roy and Dan. Dan welcomed me as an equal, never judged, never doubted. He was the best kind of role model, the one who doesn’t even think of it. He showed up and did the job. Always prepared, generous, ready to go toe-to-toe with Johnny Miller or whoever was sitting next to him. Funny. Gave you shit in the TV compound to let you know you were part of the team.
The first time I ever called PGA Tour golf for Golf Channel was at the Houston Open. I forget which year. Dan insisted that I join him with Roger Maltbie and Frank Nobilo for dinner at one of Houston’s best-kept secret restaurants, a place tucked away in a residential neighborhood. I wish I could remember the name of the place, but time is undefeated.
Dan ordered a bourbon and regaled the table with stories of his 20-plus US Open broadcasts and countless Olympic swimming and skiing shows. Roger gave me unsolicited advice that I carry to this day. A very inebriated patron approached our table for autographs — it was Dan Hicks, Roger Maltbie, and Frank Nobilo, after all. I knew immediately that the guy had no idea who I was, but he still had to take his shot.
I gamely signed his menu: “Steve Sands.” Dan thought that was utterly hilarious.
Never enough time.
Everyone who works in this industry has been helped. Nobody can do it alone. We learn, we steal, we emulate. It was effortless to want to help Alex, because he was so clearly destined for something big. It was a joy to wake up early for David’s show, because he knew exactly what he was doing in making the guest the star. Stumbling down into the hotel gym on a Saturday morning and seeing Dan grinding away on a bike or a rowing machine showed me that this is how you stay sharp on the job. It’s the same lesson I learned from watching David Steele bring his wife and children to Magic games, the same lesson I learned when Kelly Tilghman gave me Mike Tirico’s template for preparing notes for a golf tournament, which I turned into handwritten index cards. We learn. We give. We pass it on. We take our own kids on the road to places like Pebble Beach, Niagara Falls, and the Dominican Republic. We hope that they find inspiration as we did.
There’s never enough time. Tell them.
